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text 2018-03-08 15:10
Excerpt Reveal - Two Wedding Crashers

 

 

 

 

Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.

 

You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?

 

Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.

 

Except I haven't felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.

 

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem--but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?

 

That's how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.

 

It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I'm a pro. I can handle this.

 

Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I'm doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don't think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.

 

ADD TO GOODREADS

 

 

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EXCERPT:

 

Crystal-blue ocean shines below me, and if I wasn’t so scared of Zoey and her repercussions for being late, I would take the time to appreciate Mother Nature. Instead I hurry into my room, flop my suitcase on my bed, unzip it, and grab my toiletries.

 

Not taking a second longer, I strip down, leaving my gross airplane clothes on the floor, and practically skip to the shower where I stop mid stride.

 

In the shower stall is a black razor, with accompanying shaving cream. That’s odd. Is that courtesy of the hotel? This place is fancy, but not that fancy. Spinning on my heel, I turn toward the sink behind me and spot a white and green toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and men’s cologne. Shit, turning toward the room, my eyes frantically roam the space, spotting a black suitcase in the corner.

 

Shit, shit, shit.

 

Naked, I cover my breasts with my arm and open the closet door only to come face to face with a few hung-up shirts.

 

Yup . . . I’m in someone else’s fucking room.

 

And whoever this room belongs to is the neatest person ever because who honestly lines up there toothbrush and toothpaste tube perfectly on the counter?

 

Reaching for the phone, I call down to the front desk.

 

“Mr. Wilder, how can we assist you?” Oh yeah, totally not in the correct room.

 

“Uh, yeah, hi, this is Rylee Ryan. I just checked in. I was given the key to room 625 and it seems to be occupied.”

 

“Oh dear, let me check.” There is a pause on the phone and then the lady comes on the line again. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. Ryan. We have you in room 626. Would you like to come down here and grab a new key?”

 

Is she kidding? The trek it took to get over here ate up enough of my time. I can’t possibly take a shower if I have to run back to the lobby, grab a key, and run all the way back here.

 

“Would you mind bringing it to room 625? I have dinner plans and have to get changed.”

 

“Oh, of course. I’ll send someone up with a key right away.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I hop around naked, eyeing my pukey clothes on the floor and the shower in the other room. Twisting my lip to the side, I try to decide what to do. I can be super quick, like really fucking quick. I just need to scrub the puke and throw on a dress, simple. Two minutes tops. The water doesn’t even have to be warm. I’ll write a polite note to Mr. Wilder—whoever that is—leave him five dollars as a kind gesture and quietly leave. No problem with that. Right?

 

Right.

 

Turning on the shower, I hop in before the water can warm up and hiss from the frosty temperature. I douse soap all over my hands and scrub my neck and body vigorously first, which normally I would wash my hair first but . . . puke. Once I’m satisfied with the amount of scrubbing, I wash my hair, condition it in a minute, do one more soap scrubbing all over my body before rinsing and turning the shower off. Two minutes.
Just in case Mr. Wilder is sitting outside the bathroom, I peek my head out the door, towel wrapped around my body, and call out, “Hello?”

 

When there is no response, I check that the coast is clear then strut to my suitcase and find a simple black sundress. Not bothering to look for underwear or a bra—I really don’t need one with my perky B-cups—I lay out my dress and dry off.

 

Hopefully Mr. Wilder doesn’t mind me using one of his towels or his room for that matter. He’s probably some old dude away on his golfing vacation. I hope I don’t give him a heart attack.

 

I drape my towel over the bed and run my hands through my naturally wavy, black hair. This will have to do. Picking up my towel one more time, I scrunch my hair, trying to soak up all the water just as the hotel door swings open, light blaring through, a tall, dark silhouette shadowed in the doorframe.

 

I still, frozen from the tips of my toes to the hand scrunching a towel in my hair.
Toned calves and legs are covered by black board shorts, slick to his thighs, a bulge prominent. Narrow waist where his board shorts ride low on his hips, a black shirt dancing across his broad chest, cinching sleeves cuffed over his biceps, and a V-neck providing a glimpse of how far his tan extends. Head cast down, eyes transfixed on his phone in front of him, he doesn’t notice the naked girl standing in the middle of his hotel room. He stuffs his keycard in his back pocket and looks up, startled.

 

I scream.

 

He grumbles something unintelligible as I point out the obvious. “Ahhh, my boobs are naked!” It might be a little concerning that I consider my boobs to be the only things naked at this point.

 

As quickly as I can, I cover my body, towel making a poor attempt to hide my girly bits.
The man turns away, covering his eyes with his arm while muttering, “Oh shit.”

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, struggling with my towel. I know damn well the man in front of me must be Mr. Wilder, and this is in fact his room, and I’m the one intruding, but I still feel the need to place the blame on him for walking in on me naked.

 

“Grabbing my sunglasses,” he says, his voice terrified but also deep and rumbly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Still trying to cover myself, I scramble to grab my dress and back up to the bathroom.

 

“Washing my neck,” I answer, nervously, boobs swaying with my erratic movements.
Eyes still covered, he keeps his back toward me but straightens up. “Washing your neck? Is that code for some kind of weird Key West thing?”

 

I back into the bathroom and make quick attempt of putting my dress over my head and righting it so everything is covered up. Hair still damp as well as my body, I step out into the room and clear my throat, dress sticking to my damp skin. “No, it’s not code for anything. I really had to wash my neck.”

 

“And you chose my room to do that in, because . . .”

 

Bending down, I shove my dirty clothes in my bag and zip up, giving Mr. Wilder the heads-up that I’m dressed. At least he’s a gentleman . . .

 

When he turns around, he eyes me up and down, his gaze curious and heated when he sees just how hard my nipples are from the cold shower . . . and the unexpected peep show.

 

“I didn’t choose your room to take a shower in.” I move my suitcase to the floor and pull up the handle. “The hotel gave me the key to this room by mistake, and since I had puke on my neck from the airplane—long story—I decided to take a quick shower while I waited for my room. I apologize for taking up your space, but I think we’re skipping an important detail here.” I cock my hand on my hip. “You saw me naked.”

 

“No, I didn’t,” he retorts rather quickly, despite the slow grin that spreads across his face.
I’m calling bullshit. “You totally saw my boobs.”

 

“I really didn’t. Your scream scared the shit out of me. I didn’t have enough time to see anything before you covered up.”

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, I ask, “You promise you didn’t see anything?”
“Promise.”

 

Hmm. “Okay, because being hotel neighbors and all, that would be extremely awkward if you saw me naked.”

 

“Good thing I didn’t then.” He rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. Finally he reaches out to the desk next to him and holds up his black Ray Bans. “Just needed my sunglasses.”

 


 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

 

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

 

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

 

Facebook | Follow on Goodreads | Website 

Amazon Author Page | Instagram | Follow on BookBub

 

 

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text 2018-03-01 13:01
Excerpt Reveal - Playing His Way

SBPRBanner-PlayingHisWay-ER

 

Playing His Way, an all-new sexy standalone from Erika Wilde is coming March 13th!

 

PlayingHisWay-Ebook-Amazon

 

HE'S READY TO PLAY . . . ARE YOU?

 

As the new owner of The Players Club, Brent "Mac" MacMillan is all about dirty sex, wicked sin and carnal pleasure . . . served up his way.  After being burned in the past, he's always been careful to choose experienced females who enjoy submitting to his dark desires, and are willing to play by his demanding rules without expecting any emotional attachments in return.

 

Hiring beautiful interior designer Stephanie Randall to create fantasy bedrooms within his club is his first mistake.  She's curious, flirtatious, and makes his blood run hotter than it ever has before.  Innocent when it comes to all the debauchery his sinful world has to offer, she wants to take a walk on the wild side . . . with him.  

 

His second mistake?  Saying yes.  And his third?  Falling for the one woman he knows he can never have.

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt:

 

Stephanie strolled toward Mac, a mischievous glimmer suddenly brightening her gorgeous blue eyes, putting him on alert.  "I'd like to attend the Masquerade party at The Players Club on Saturday, to get a better feel for the club and what other fantasy elements might work for your members."

 

     He stiffened at her unexpected request.  The temptation of having her in this domain—wanting her but refusing to touch her—wasn't something he wanted to endure.  And watching her possibly hook up with someone else, like Rick?  Complete fucking agony.

 

 

     He shook his head.  "I don't think attending the Masquerade party is necessary.  I'm sure you can come up with a few other ideas without being here when everything is in full swing, which is probably going to be more distracting, than helpful."

 

 

     "What if I want to be here?" the little vixen proposed, her voice holding a hint of a challenge.  "You know, to mix a little business with pleasure?"

 

 

     His expression remained composed, his resolve, firm.  "I'm going to have to say no."

 

 

     She tipped her head to the side, studying him much too astutely.  "I can always get an invitation from Jillian, you know," she said as she came closer and closer.

 

 

     "No, you can't," he countered.  "I put a freeze on any new invitations until I'm done going through the current membership."

 

 

     She laughed softly, huskily, the sound like a stroke along his cock.  Much like her hand was suddenly stroking down the length of his tie before giving it a playful tug.  "Do I make you nervous, Mac?"

 

 

     His hands curled into fists in his pockets, because it was taking extreme effort not to grasp her face in his palms and kiss that soft, plush, impudent mouth of hers—hot and hard and deep.  "Do I look like a man who'd be intimidated by any woman?" he asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

 

 

     She thought about that for a brief moment before giving her hair a subtle toss and replying.  "Intimidated, no."  Then a sexy, knowing smile curved her lips.  "Nervous, definitely, because if you weren't a little uneasy about whatever this thing is between us, you wouldn't have an issue with me coming to the Masquerade party and being at the club."

 

 

     "The last thing you make me feel is uneasy."  Instead, her presence had lust pumping through him like a heady surge of adrenaline.  She was certainly testing his control.

 

 

     Her free hand came back up and splayed on his chest, the heat of her touch searing him through his dress shirt.  "If I don't make you nervous, then prove it," she cajoled.  "Let me come to the party on Saturday.  I promise not to be too shocked by what I see."

 

 

     His jaw clenched as she met his gaze and held it, so bold and brazen when she really had no idea what she was messing with, or what he was capable of.  This woman was no shrinking violet, and she was the furthest thing from the kind of  submissive, obedient female he preferred—and Jesus, Christ, his dick was hard as stone for her.  This was a woman who liked having the advantage, who enjoyed a little power play, and fuck if that didn't make him want to pin her against the wall behind her and make it very clear who really had the upper hand between them.

 

 

     "So, what will it be, Mr. MacMillan?" she murmured huskily.  "Inviting me to the club on Saturday, or are you going to chicken out?"

 

Preorder Playing His Way Today!

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PLAYINGHISWAY-Pre-Order

 

 

 

 

ErikaWilde

About Erika:

 

Erika Wilde (aka Janelle Denison) is the USA Today bestselling author of over 50 contemporary romances for multiple print publishers.

 

Connect with Erika:

 

 FacebookTwitter WebsiteNewsletter

Join Erika's Private Fan Page - Books & Exclusive Giveaways!

 

 

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text 2018-02-14 13:10
Excerpt Reveal - Gentleman Nine

     

 

   

 

GENTLEMAN NINE

(A standalone)

Release date: 2/19/2018

 

A Contemporary Romance Novel

 

 

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.  

 

Growing up, the three of us were friends.

 

He was the nerd.

I was the playboy.

She was the beauty.  

 

Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits.

 

He lied.  

 

I went off to college, and he got the girl.

Amber never knew how I felt. They were together for years—before he broke her heart.

 

Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch.

When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.  

 

Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men.

One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life.

She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings.

 

Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.

 

Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message.

 

She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend— me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.)

 

Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Nine at a hotel. When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she got the surprise of her life to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse.  

 

ADD TO GOODREADS      

 

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Sign up to be alerted when it goes live on Amazon here

**No Amazon e-book preorder. Will go live on/around release day ** 

 

     

 

EXCERPT:

 

G9,  

 

Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers. That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.  

 

Amber  

 

My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.

Holy shit.

I read it again.

And again.

And again.

 

I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory. She wanted to use another man to f*ck me out of her system?

 

That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as f*ck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.  

     

 

     

 

 

 

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-year-old girl with autism and a 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

 

Connect with Penelope Ward:

 

Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Website |Twitter | Instagram    

 

 

 

Other standalones from Penelope Ward:

 

Drunk Dial:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2fXfzKn

iBooks: http://apple.co/2tq7dRz

Nook: http://bit.ly/2xeEH2H

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ihXnMD

 

Mack Daddy:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWzE1S

iBooks: http://apple.co/2iNrIPj

Nook: http://hyperurl.co/aiypfj

Kobo: http://hyperurl.co/r3hv19

 

Stepbrother Dearest:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1mFNMeg

iBooks: http://bit.ly/YER0mT

Nook: http://bit.ly/1taMFjG

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1fJaaBs

 

Neighbor Dearest:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2aWvypX

iBooks: http://apple.co/29mC6L8

Nook: http://bit.ly/2akQ2aq

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2axt1SY

 

RoomHate:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/294lIeT

iBooks: http://apple.co/1PgsvE7

Nook: http://bit.ly/1PLGnSL

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1POvSnW

 

Dear Bridget, I Want You: (co-written with Vi Keeland)

Amazon: http://smarturl.it/kh2bxf

iBooks: http://smarturl.it/y4x3xi

Nook: http://smarturl.it/o780mb

Kobo: http://smarturl.it/kfgc6a

 

Mister Moneybags: (co-written with Vi Keeland)

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ny7GhN

iBooks: http://smarturl.it/3y1tuq

Nook: http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m

Kobo: http://smarturl.it/qqf5ho

 

Playboy Pilot: (co-written with Vi Keeland)

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2dbetFA

iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf

Nook: http://bit.ly/2c9vRdV

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ctb6dv

 

Stuck-Up Suit: (co-written with Vi Keeland)

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1S3LnpZ

iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57

Nook: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/stuck-up-suit

 

Cocky Bastard: (co-written with Vi Keeland)

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1MvHLg2

iBooks: http://apple.co/1PffE2J

Nook: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO

 

Sins of Sevin:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1F9tbc3

iBooks: http://apple.co/1K8mzGg

Nook: http://bit.ly/1hTKAKE

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1OaGY3D

 

Jake Undone (Jake #1):

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1dJrHBC

Nook: http://bit.ly/1obAwJ6

iBooks: http://apple.co/1fJayQ8

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1SPKl0M

 

Jake Understood (Jake #2):

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GFdves

Nook: http://bit.ly/1FwJC0z

iBooks: http://apple.co/1DQQwgC

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1LQ7Fvk

 

My Skylar

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1obOG2F

iBooks: http://bit.ly/SLNOTR

Nook: http://bit.ly/SLO1qi

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1kNrtAB

 

Gemini:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1vgk1SE

Nook: http://bit.ly/1KfmLHD

iBooks: http://apple.co/1QTaONj

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1BGJ2wu

 

 

 

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text 2018-01-18 07:05
Excerpt Reveal - Deep Inside
 
Check out this excerpt for DEEP INSIDE by Virna DePaul! 
 
Title: Deep Inside (Going Deep Book 3)
Age Group: Adult
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: January 23, 2018
Goodreads

#deepinside #preorder #sheathearthea #excerpt
DEEP INSIDE is coming your way in January!
 
Preorder now-->
 
Book Description:
 
Ruby O’Brien, NFL publicist extraordinaire, lives her life by three simple rules:

#1 - Never date a client.
#2 - Never sleep with a client.
#3 - Never fall in love with a client.

The problem is, she never counted on Alec LeBrun.

Alec, the cocky and talented tight end of the Savannah Bootleggers, repeatedly asks Ruby for a date, and no one’s more shocked than Ruby when she finally says yes. Less than twenty four hours later, however, he’s engaged to someone else. Lesson learned. Two months later, Alec’s single again, acting like a publicity nightmare and requiring up-close supervision. Now Ruby has to help Alec fix his bad boy reputation, even as she protects her heart.

Alec watched Ruby from afar for months, long before circumstances got him engaged to his lying ex. Now he’s free to pursue the only woman he’s ever truly wanted. Ruby's smart, gorgeous, and super-professional, and he wants her with a hunger he’s never experienced before. Too bad Ruby thinks he’s still pining for another woman. Now he has to prove her wrong. Jeopardizing their careers isn’t part of the plan, but he also refuses to play by her rules—not when doing so means losing the woman he loves.

Can Alex convince Ruby that, sometimes, scoring in love means risking it all? And will Ruby accept that she’s not second best, but the only woman Alec wants? For a lifetime.
 
 
 

Excerpt:

Ruby O’Brien flashed her media badge at the stadium security booth before zipping into the Savannah Bootleggers’ crowded parking lot. Pulling into her reserved spot, she turned off the ignition and rested her head against the steering wheel, listening to disgruntled Bootleggers fans returning to their cars after an unexpected defeat.

No wonder Alec was in a bad mood.

The mid-season loss, the recent breakup with his ex-fiancée, Colleen, the fact his own teammate had apparently been taunting him about both… It would put anyone in a bad mood, but unfortunately, right now, the reasons for Alec’s bad mood didn’t matter.

He had to straighten up.

Yes, he was obviously going through a lot, but he had choices. And choices, as a high-profile tight end in the world of professional football, meant everything.

Lately, his choices had changed him. The charming, professionally-dedicated man she’d always known had deteriorated into a ghost of himself. For weeks now, Alec had wavered between his usual mischievous, easy-going self one minute and a short-tempered, troublemaking Hulk the next. The man was jeopardizing, not only his own image, but that of the entire Bootleggers franchise. Not to mention the reputation of her father’s publicity firm, O’Brien PR. One more bad move on Alec’s part, and the team’s contract might not be renewed.

It couldn’t happen. Not on her watch.

She had to get strict with him, and she had to start now.

As Ruby strode toward the Bootleggers’ locker room, she focused on the job at hand. She tugged down the hem of her short skirt. She’d been in the middle of a date when her father had interrupted, a desperate phone call about Alec, urgently commanding her to “get that cranky-ass boy under control!” There’d been no time to change. So while she usually wore pressed, buttoned shirts and dark suits to work, right now, she was slaying a sexy black dress, strappy heels, and hair down in loose, fiery waves. Not how she’d choose to have a showdown with any client, least of all Alec, the man she’d crushed on for months.

She’d been drawn to him from the moment she’d first met him, but while he’d been friendly, flirty even, he’d never given her any indication that he was seriously attracted to her. Then, two months ago, after he’d broken up with his cheerleader girlfriend, Colleen, he’d asked her out, multiple times. And what had she done? She’d finally caved, despite the fact she never dated clients, because doing so violated her own rules, yes, but mostly it violated her father’s business policies. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. The date never happened. Instead, the next day, it’d been all over the news—Alec and Colleen were engaged and planning an early October wedding.

To say her heart shattered before it ever got out the gate was an understatement. Water under the bridge, Ruby thought. That weak Ruby was gone now, and she was the woman she’d always been. Professional Ruby. Ruthless Ruby. No-nonsense, Non-Heartbroken Ruby. And here we go…
Pushing those double doors open was the same every time: loud, bright, chaotic, and filled with the pungent smell of sweat and buckets of body spray. Ruby marched through the swarm of players, keeping her peripheral blinders on. Do not look at the naked men. Do not, do not, do not…

For a moment, a sudden silence overtook the locker room, followed by several low whistles. An elongated “damnnnn.” Great. They were checking her out! She should’ve changed out of the dress. Oh, well, too late now. Her stride faltered, and a blush overcame her cheeks a split second before the catcalls ended.

“Hey, Red, ’bout time you got here.” Martinez, the wide receiver from LSU who couldn’t run a simple route to save his life, but could catch a ball with his pinky, shouted at her from his locker. “Ooo, LeBrun’s in trouble now. Look how pissed she is. Ow!” he howled.

She breathed a sigh of relief that the men weren’t going to razz her about her sexy dress. About Alec, yes, but that she could handle. Glancing in his direction but keeping her gaze aimed high, she waved at Martinez. “Be glad it’s not you I’m after,” Ruby said with a smirk.

Several of the boys chuckled. Notably, both quarterback Kyle Young and wide receiver Heath Dawson, Alec’s best friends, were absent, as was Connors, the player Alec had fought with. Were they with him in the medic room? Ruby had already texted Richard James, Connors’ publicist, and would be meeting with him after talking to Alec. As for Young and Dawson? They’d probably cleared out to meet their girlfriends. The men had recently found the loves of their lives and while they, unlike Alec, weren’t letting their football careers suffer, they also made sure the women in their lives were given equal priority.

“We missed you at tonight’s game, Red. We’re used to you being in the stands but looks like you had bigger plans.” That came from Plough, the left offensive end from Ohio State, who needed to get his hands up or he’d be knocked on his ass all season. “I think you’re right, Martinez. She don’t look too happy. Gorgeous but not happy.”

“Hey, Red, how come you never come just to see us? Why it always gotta be LeBrun, LeBrun, LeBrun?” That was Hewitt, rookie quarterback the Bootleggers drafted first round from Stanford. Denser than a bag of bricks, but basically a nice guy who threw beautiful spirals to Alec every time.

“’Cause he’s the only one who needs reprimanding, gentlemen.” Her mind wandered, as she thought about all the ways she wished she could reprimand Alec for his misbehavior. In another world, another lifetime, where publicists and clients ravaged each other as post-game punishment.

None of that, Ruby. Keep it together. Alec just asked you out to fill in the space Colleen left behind when they broke up that first time at the end of the summer. As soon as he had the opportunity to get back together with her, he couldn’t forget about Ruby fast enough. Hell, they’d never even discussed the fact he’d asked her out and she’d accepted—when she’d seen him again, she’d simply congratulated him on his engagement. And though he’d looked tense, like he wanted to say something more, in the end he’d simply said, “Thanks, Ruby,” and walked away.

It hurt. Like a mothereffer. But Ruby was great at moving on, and so she did. Chin up and all that. She never should’ve agreed to a date in the first place.

Past the hoots and hollers, past the ass-staring—she knew they were doing it even with her eyes facing forward—past the not-so-clever quips, Ruby made her way to the medic room where she spied a man sitting on the exam table through the cheap, bent blinds. He faced away from her, as the team doctor dabbed a cotton swab to his cheek. She’d know that strong back anywhere—the twitching ripple of his muscles, the width of his shoulders, the expanse of his delts, the thickness of arms that would never, ever, wrap around her. There he was—Alec LeBrun in all his hot mess glory.

Time to put him in his place.
 






About the author:
 
 
Virna DePaul is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, and a former criminal prosecutor who writes thrilling, sexy stories about ordinary people overcoming extraordinary obstacles to find love. She has been traditionally published with Penguin, Harlequin, and Random House, and is also a bestselling Indie author.

Website: www.virnadepaul.com
Email: virna@virnadepaul.com
 
 
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text 2017-10-10 08:05
Excerpt Reveal - The Rivalry

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She won't be able to resist this TIGHT END. The Rivalry by Nikki Sloane releases on NOVEMBER 21st! KEEP READING for an Excerpt!

 

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Amazon: http://amzn.to/2vISfXY

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This tight end is at the top of his game. He’s good with his hands, even better with his sexy mouth, and the best at making me forget my own name. His—ahem—stats are perfect. But I can’t fall for him. He might be everything I want, all rolled into a glorious package of gridiron god, but there’s one teeny-tiny problem. The vile, loathsome team I’ve spent my entire life hating—my beloved school’s arch-rival? This guy is their star player.

 

 

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EXCERPT:

 

Holy mother of God, this guy knew how to kiss. Jay’s lips pressed to mine. Gentle, and slow, but it ignited a fire that burned all through my body, sizzling out to the ends of my fingertips and toes.

 

The way he moved his tongue in my mouth was something else. It was sexy. Maybe even a little dirty, and a whole lot of awesome. Beneath his kiss, I was going to melt. If he wasn’t careful, I’d turn molten and pour down the side of the stone wall he’d set me on.

 

The added height of the wall was great. All he had to do was tilt down to meet me. His face was in my hands, and I brushed my thumbs over his cheekbones, enjoying the sensation of the rough ends of the whiskers on his jaw.

 

He smelled freaking amazing. I didn’t just want to make out with this guy, I wanted to inhale him. It’d been some kind of torture slow dancing with him earlier. My body had been tight with anticipation, hoping he’d make a move later. Only, here we were, lips locked—and the anticipation didn’t go away. It graduated into need.

 

How long could we be out here before anyone noticed we were gone? I couldn’t think like that. We were secluded in the shadows, and as the sunlight continued to fade, it’d only feel more intimate here in the woods with him.

 

Jay left a trail of damp kisses across my jaw as he made his way to my ear. His hot breath rasped the moment before his lips landed on the sensitive skin on my neck, just below my earlobe. I was burning alive, yet I shivered. Goosebumps broke out on my legs. Oh my God, that felt good. Something as simple as his warm mouth against my skin made every inch of me weak with desire. I ached.

 

“I’m kind of pissed at Dave,” Jay mumbled into my skin, right at the spot where my neck met my body.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why the hell didn’t he introduce us?”

 

I wanted to laugh. Or tell him I’d had the same thought. But Jay’s lips had rendered me unable to do anything. I couldn’t even breathe. Every inch of me was sensitized and hyperaware of him. I was turning to liquid in his hands, and he was barely touching me.

 

My eyes fluttered closed as his mouth crept along the length of my collarbone to the base of my throat and continued to the other side. His hands settled at my waist, but the longer we kept kissing, the bolder he seemed to grow. His palms inched upward.

 

It was like I’d drawn up a playbook and every route was executed flawlessly by Jay. Breath caught in my lungs as his hands slid to a stop on my ribcage, pausing just below my breasts. The heat of his palms was a hot iron, seeping through my chiffon dress. I wanted him to keep going, but I also grew nervous. I wanted him too badly. Too much. I wasn’t the type to be reckless or have a random hookup.

 

Was I?

 

His mouth found mine, and his kiss was urgent. Needy. It was loaded with lust, and I was desperate to give in to it.

 

“You were right,” I said, trying not to pant it out. “Your kiss needs to come with a warning.”

 

A noise escaped the back of his throat. A deep, wicked chuckle.

 

It was too hot for Ohio in August. Even in the shade, it was a million degrees Fahrenheit. Sweat blossomed on my skin, beading into tiny drops as Jay shifted his stance between my parted legs and urged me closer. I dry swallowed when there was no space left between us, and his hips pressed against the insides of my thighs. My skirt rode up, and I could feel the firm bulge in his pants nudging me.

 

It was powerful knowing I’d turned him on, and it was just my kiss that seemed to be doing it. My blood had burst into steam in my veins the moment his lips locked onto mine. I’d never had a kiss like his. Didn’t even know I was capable of this kind of feeling.

 

I hadn’t intended to do more than kiss him, but now I craved more. “Oh, God, do it,” I whispered, arching my back and making it as clear as possible what I wanted. I stared into his intense blue eyes, watching his lust-filled expression as he followed my plea. I sighed in relief as he moved his hands one inch up, followed by another.

 

Until his hands covered my breasts, gripping me through my dress. I moaned, but it was swallowed up under his dominating kiss. Jay drew my bottom lip into his mouth and bit down. Just a hint of teeth. I inhaled sharply, but not in pain. His action had sent pleasure zinging between my legs.

 

“Kayla.” He broke the kiss only for a moment. “You are so fucking hot.”

 

The earth was spinning like I was drunk, only I wasn’t even buzzing from alcohol. This was entirely him.

 

 

 

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About the Author:

 

Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, is married with two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier.

 

Stalk Nikki:

 

Website: http://www.nikkisloane.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/nikkisloaneauthor/?fref=ts

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AuthorNSloane

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2fsTzpI

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/NikkiSloane

 

 

 

 

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